


Come Break Some Hearts Now

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Car Sex, Coming In Pants, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Humour, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Making Out in the Camaro, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, No Spoilers, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Season/Series 03, Public Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Kissing, Steve Harrington Is a Dumbass, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 09:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Steve's a generous guy. Factually speaking and all that. Overall a swell dude, and nicely shaped to boot. At least, he's always thought so on account of half of Hawkins High School having asked him out at one point or another.See, in the last year or so Steve's figured out that he perhaps used to hold some very incorrect views when it came to dudes and, uh, other dudes. Completely erroneous. Like, nobody's perfect, and Steve's the first to admit when he's, like, wrong and shit. Like a man. Which he is. And so is Hargrove. Like, Steve's seen him shower, in a totally platonic way up until earlier this week.Steve should never have agreed to go on a date with Billy Hargrove.





	Come Break Some Hearts Now

**Author's Note:**

> I cut my hand open with a butter knife yesterday (like a dumbass), thus my bathroom looks like a murder scene now, which I can't clean up properly because my hand hurts. I wrote this to cheer myself up from being an idiot.
> 
> Title from "Social Climb" by I Don't Know How But They Found Me.

"I'll call you."

And— _What._

"I'll call you?" Steve whispers to himself. Then, "_I'll call you?_" Which is more of a yell. Too bad the Camaro has already driven off into the night.

He rolls his eyes so hard he might be permanently damaging his retinas. When he looks off into the distance for some incredibly warranted glaring, he makes sudden and unavoidable eye contact with one of his elderly neighbours.

"Nice evening, Mrs Brown?" he calls out. His left eye might just be twitching. It's hard to tell through the all-encompassing, like, outrage and fury.

Mrs Brown is about a hundred years old, yet doubtfully endowed with the eyesight of an Air Force pilot. She stares, blinks, resituates the lid on top of the garbage bin, and hurried back inside as if Steve's the strange one here. Like, who takes their garbage out at eleven PM on a Friday night?

*

Steve's a generous guy. Factually speaking and all that. Overall a swell dude, and nicely shaped to boot. At least, he's always thought so on account of half of Hawkins High School having asked him out at one point or another.

And due to the aforementioned generosity, he'd said yes to the most douchebag asshole to ever punch his lights out when said douchebag asshole had sidled over to him on the bench during practice that Tuesday to ask him out. Of all things. As if they weren't in public, _during school_, with coach yelling at the rest of the team from the corner and Tommy H making faces at Steve from underneath the hoop.

If he's being honest, it's not only Steve's great heart for charity cases at play here.

See, in the last year or so Steve's figured out that he perhaps used to hold some very incorrect views when it came to dudes and, uh, other dudes. Completely erroneous. Like, nobody's perfect, and Steve's the first to admit when he's, like, wrong and shit. Like a man. Which he is. And so is Hargrove. Like, Steve's seen him shower, in a totally platonic way up until earlier this week.

And Hargrove being from California and all, Steve figures he must have this whole gay shit down pat. It made sense to say yes, unknowingly going out for burgers and milkshakes with the worst tease this side of the Mississippi.

Obviously _actually_ going on a date with Billy Hargrove is where Steve fucked it all up. He could've asked him for pointers for when Steve found himself in a position to, er, whatever dudes do with each other. Clearly Hargrove could've been a buddy and given him the dirt.

Now Steve's stuck wearing a hole in the carpet by the phone with all of his pacing. It's pathetic.

*

Hargrove doesn't call him the entire weekend, the lying liar. They don't run into each other, even though Steve volunteers to go on three separate grocery runs in two days, to the delight of his mother.

It's kind of a pain to admit he was expecting one or the other, either a call or Hargrove dropping by Steve's side of town for no apparent reason. Was sure Hargrove would break. He'd planned on being merciful about it, and only chew him out about being a dick the once and then magnanimously letting it go in favour of some making out, or even Hargrove going to his knees for his dick.

When Hargrove's nowhere to be found, it kind of takes the wind out of Steve's sails.

*

Overall, the weekend is a shitshow. Dustin stops by to mooch, and they end up watching _The Empire Strikes Back_ for the eleventh time. Steve's not even that into it.

*

School sucks. Like, objectively, of course, but also on Monday when Steve glances up from his locker and spots Hargrove in the middle of half a dozen seniors, all smiles and charm, it seems to suck even more than usual.

And maybe Steve uses a little too much force to close his locker. And maybe he gets a stare or two. Whatever. No junior should be as popular with the seniors are Hargrove clearly is.

But he's not about to bitch about Hargrove out loud to absolutely no one, like a freak, so he grabs his shit and takes off for class. Everything sort of sucks anyway.

*

Hargrove's ridiculous blue Camaro is one of the few cars still loitering in the school parking lot when Steve exits the building well after classes ended for the day. It's an outrageous piece of machinery he would give his left nut to own, though the Beamer's far from shabby by comparison.

His first thought is that Max is late getting picked up again, only that doesn't make sense. He could swear he saw Lucas on his bike racing her on her skateboard through the guidance counselor's window not twenty minutes before while he was sitting in on yet another after-school What Are Your College Plans meeting, one of many these days.

He shrugs it off and makes his way to his own car, only to realise, once he gets closer, that Hargrove's in fact lounging around inside the Camaro, idly smoking, hand holding the cigarette casually resting against the outside of the car through the open window.

What's obvious straight away after that first realisation is that Hargrove is waiting _for Steve_ by the way he ashes his smoke once he spots him and makes to exit the driver's seat.

"May I help you?" Steve snarks. It's a good retort to having some asshole blocking his way.

Hargrove plants his feet, and Steve swallows around a mouthful of saliva. "In a hurry, Harrington?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Eat shit, Hargrove," he replies, his voice sickly sweet, but follows it up with a glare, because Hargrove might have missed the full spectrum of Steve's wrath on Friday night but Steve's more than up for a repeat performance.

"What's with the attitude? First you manhandle school property in the halls, which is none of my business. But this is downright rude." He says it all aloof, but his stance is something else entirely.

Steve will show him rude. There're not standing in Mrs Byers's kitchen. There are no handy plates Hargrove can smash over his head.

But they were supposed to be over this shit by now, and Steve waited all weekend around his house, like a moron, for a call that never came.

The wind goes out of him all at once. It's stupid, but he says, "You said you'd call." He fails miserably at making it sound matter-of-fact.

He could follow it up with, _You're the one who's rude,_ but his throat does a thing where the words refuse to come out. Not that it would make much of a difference. He's already out on a limb without a paddle, or whatever the fuck.

"Did you want me to?" Careless. Steve can't be sure whether he's _actually_ asking him. That obnoxious tongue hanging out of his mouth spells trouble, usually for Steve, and taking Hargrove at face value is definitely trouble. The sort of thing an idiot would do.

Steve swallows a retort, but Hargrove notices, eyebrows raising, and waits him out. For a long moment, his throat feels stuck.

He's such a fucking idiot, Steve is. "You said you'd call," he says once more, evenly, words measured.

It's the truth. Steve is nothing if not a speaker of the truth here. Not like Hargrove, who's a liar. But even though it's one hundred percent true, Steve's definitely the idiot here.

Hargrove doesn't miss a beat. "I did," he mutters.

He blinks, face blank for a moment, then his eyes zero in on Steve, all intense and shit, and Steve feels his face warming up. Can't muster up the mental space to pretend he's not flustered.

So instead he mumbles, "So what now?"

*

That part about Steve being a fucking idiot? Still true, although Billy's got him on his back and making out with him in the backseat of the Camaro in full view of the school, so Steve's not alone in that, at least.

At the same time, he can't say he cares. Like, safety in being idiots together.

Which is why when Billy backs off to roughly wedge his hips between his thighs Steve doesn't miss a beat before pulling him into another kiss, hand twining into his ridiculous hair, shuddering when Billy turns it a little harsher than Steve would generally go for. He muffles a moan against his lips because it's even better now.

If he were standing, his knees would be buckling, which is a heady thought all on its own.

Turns out that he's kind of into dudes doing stuff to each other, although Steve's currently at the stage where he's moaning while on his back uselessly as Billy does his best to fuck him through two pairs of jeans and underwear, but he blames that on the lack of air. It's hard to coordinate limbs when you're half a second away from both asphyxiation and coming in your pants.

He settles for nudging at Billy's cheekbone with his nose for encouragement before diving back in for another kiss, feeling both as if his mouth is too dry and he's drooling mortifyingly all over himself for more.

When he gets his upper lip bitten and licked in quick succession for his troubles, he feels himself going red, breath stuttering, muscles spasming into stillness. It doesn't last long. Billy tongues into his mouth and drags their hard dicks together through their clothes on the next thrust, and the one after that, and Steve does his best to meet him thrust for thrust, legs wrapping around the backs of his knees, heels digging in.

It's a filthy mess to the finish line. He's already been leaking into his clothes for ages, but now his cock gives a couple of hard twitches before he feels himself coming, the top of his head tingling with it, mouth hanging open to let out a truly embarrassing moan between some feeble whimpers.

Panting through the last tendrils of pleasure coursing through his body, he figures Billy's got precisely thirty seconds before it gets to be too much for Steve's sensitive dick, but his hips stutter in about half that time, wetness spreading, and he settles more comfortably on top of Steve once he stops twitching with the aftershocks.

It doesn't take Steve long to notice he's being nuzzled, Billy's face tucked where shoulder meets neck. He can't say he minds, but let it not be said Steve Harrington will take this lying down. Hargrove's bullshit, that is.

"That's what you get for, uh, not calling," he manages, breathless and not quite as smug-sounding as he hoped.

It's also entirely possible his good words have short circuited right out of his head somewhere along the way, or simply the ability of putting words together overall.

On top of him, Billy stills completely for a long moment before muttering, "Won't happen again." He sounds as if he's stifling laughter, though he starts up once more on the nuzzling before Steve can call him out on it.

But Steve really should say something about the last three days, only Billy beats him to it.

"Didn't think you'd be into this sort of thing," he mumbles, barely loud enough for Steve to make out the words, even with Billy's mouth pressed to his ear.

Turns out, Billy Hargrove is also a bit of a fucking idiot. Good thing Steve's a generous guy.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com) if you want to scream at me to get my arse in gear and post stuff. Who knows, I might just do it.
> 
> Fyi, "out on a limb without a paddle" is one of my favourite mangled metaphors. Yes, I have a bullet list.


End file.
